[Erick Sermon]I be pulsatin dominatin, up aboveRun-D.M.C. style, stop and show loveE-Dub, I can't fall off, it's no way, I'm down lowI stay in the cut with O.J.The fact is, some things got to changewith eight or more rappers that sound the sameWith the, same game, like they all in the same gangand claim the same fameSuicide victims, quick to jump off and scream Ihave to die, I'm livin a lieFake MC's no heart, get torn apartMessin with us? In ninety-nine, get smartI be the last one you wanna play withRap committees call me, just to okay shitFocus on me, I grab the mic and drop gemson a ill rhyme, more flashier than rimsStep in in tan Timb's, a pocket full of ends with acouple of friends and a couple of hensNever boring, keep shit rocking til morningwith the bird, until the hawks start hawkingBounce with me, me and my man keep things hittinHop in the Benz 2000 Benz with the CD skippinEPMD, who's fuckin with itOutta control like 2Pac in _Juice_, character BishopWho's inferior? My Squad be Defand we ain't hearin ya, lounge in the black interiorBecause..

[Parrish Smith]Yo, they took our music and our beat and tried to make it streetThen got in the magazine and tried to sound all sweetWhen it came to EPMD no one said a wordSo I called up Erick Sermon and said, "This shit's absurd!"Now we flip the bird, back-breakin MC's down like herbsRedlinin, bendin my chrome rims up on curbsSo can you make a bill and chill and survive in the rap field?Flip deals, and cock back burners when the caps peel?I don't think so, then come next the car repoNo mo' contract, just strictly handyman in Home DepotSo don't front for me or the E, cause you know our steezEPMD, blazin shit, Def 2G'sCause we make tape and break MC's who wannabeezand gonna-beez, burn em down to third degreesYou heard of me, ain't no one checkin or servin meI'll turn your 411 into the 911 emergencySurgeon see

[Erick Sermon]I stand tall I won't fall, I recallha hah, your rhymes stall when you bust capsMake sure they krytonite capsI'm made of steel, I swat bullets like gnatsI'm like, (*singing*) Superman... fly high..... way up in the sky ..And if you try to shoot me down clown I won't dieI cremate

[Parrish Smith]I hate, let's exterminateWait for a second E, time to debateAs we take our Fisherman hat off, there's no time to maxon the crab MC, who's all on the bozackwho knows that, 2000 Benz to shows thatyo, sold out crowd, where's the hoes at?And the Old Gold black, icy cold fatWack MC's yo, where's your clothes at?End the drama, that's word to your momma..